


Moments In Time

by Maegfen



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Canon Divergence, F/M, First Kiss, Tumblr Prompt, undercover couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-06 08:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maegfen/pseuds/Maegfen
Summary: A series of short Garcy prompt fills and fic - rating liable to change in the future!





	1. The observations of one Grace Hamiston

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the lovely anon who sent me this prompt on tumblr. Oh how I wish we could have seen this in the show! Hopefully everyone enjoys this. Diverges from canon at the end of 2x08 (and makes certain presumptions about what may have occurred between 2x07 and 2x08...)

Grace smiled at the two people in front of her. They were certainly peculiar, and their relationship was _intriguing_ to say the least. At Miss McBeal’s assertion that they weren’t from Canada her smile broadened.

“I’ll figure it out eventu…”

“Wyatt? Lucy? You guys alright?”

Grace, Lucy and Wyatt all turned to see Rufus and Flynn approaching. Rufus was holding his side, and his face was bleeding, but despite that he looked, well, pleased with himself. Flynn, on the other hand, looked worried as the two of them reached the other three.

“Hey, everything okay?” Flynn said, moving to stand in front of Lucy. He reached out and gently held her chin in his fingers, turning her face one way then the other, completely oblivious of the others. “I saw you in the melee, were you hurt?”

Lucy shook her head, placing her hand on his arm to placate him. “It’s fine.  _I’m_ fine.”

Flynn dropped his hand, nodded and moved to stand next to her, seemingly satisfied. Lucy noticed that he did not ask after Wyatt’s well-being.

“Oh,” Grace muttered as her eyes locked on Flynn. “Oh, this makes sense now,” she continued as she gestured between Wyatt and Lucy.

“Sorry?” Lucy asked, bewildered. She looked round, glancing up at Flynn before returning her gaze to the woman in front of her. “What makes sense?”

Grace looked pointedly at Flynn, who was standing protectively at Lucy’s side, then, after a second, glanced at Lucy herself.

“So, how long have the two of you been conducting an affair?” Grace looked at Lucy, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Oh no,” Lucy started, taken aback, “I already told you, Wy…Mr. Cochran and I aren’t…”

“I did not mean yourself and Mr Cochran, Miss McBeal,” Grace uttered, clearly frustrated. “I meant the two of you,” she continued, rolling her eyes and gesturing between Lucy and Flynn.

Lucy gasped while Flynn suddenly spluttered next to her. Wyatt blanched. Rufus coughed. Grace seemed bemused, clearly taking delight in the chaos she had caused within the group.

It took a few awkward, tension filled moments for Lucy to compose herself. She dared not look at Flynn, nor Wyatt or even Rufus. She felt her cheeks turn red, though she wasn’t sure whether it was embarrassment or the knowledge that _someone_ had picked up on this _thing_ between herself and the man standing, suddenly, way too close for comfort.

“Affair?” Lucy eventually whispered, unable to fully find her voice. “Flynn and I, we’re not… we’re not having an affair.”

Grace eyed Lucy carefully, then the man standing next to her. He had taken a tiny step forward and folded his arms, a flummoxed look on his face.

“Oh, I _see_ ,” Grace said, a smile breaking out on her face. “You’re both unattached. Yes, yes, that definitely makes sense. I see you wear a wedding ring sir, but I believe you to be widowed; the way you hold yourself speaks of a recent and painful loss,” she said, addressing Flynn who sent a panicked look towards Lucy. “But, nonetheless, you have begun to court Miss McBeal is that correct? It’s not been long, judging by the protectiveness and the _looks_ , but those feelings have been growing for some time haven't they?"

Both Flynn and Lucy snapped their heads towards each other, locking eyes momentarily before quickly shifting their gazes elsewhere.

Grace’s smile suddenly faded slightly as she looked between Lucy and Wyatt. “Yet, you had a previous dalliance with this young gentleman did you not Miss McBeal? A short but passionate one judging by the jealously that is currently written all over _your_ face,” she finished, turning to face Wyatt.

Flynn snorted. Lucy, suddenly forced into action, moved and elbowed him in the stomach, glaring up at him, imploring him not to wind up the other man.

“I’m not jealous,” Wyatt said defensively. It was Rufus’ turn to snort. Wyatt glared at him. “I’m _not_! I’m _married_.”

He showed Rufus and then Grace his wedding ring to remind them.

“Yes, I’m well aware of the fact you are married, Mr Cochran. I did mention it at our initial meeting. What I find most interesting is that Miss McBeal and Mr. Flynn is it?” Flynn nodded at her inquiring look. “Yes, what I find most interesting between the two of you is that you are clearly in a relationship and yet you appear to be pretending that you are in nothing of the kind. Why is that?”

“Well,” Lucy started awkwardly, before she’d given herself the time to think through her response. “It’s just that… Mr Flynn and I aren’t… we’re…it’s…”

“We are just friends,” Flynn interrupted suddenly. For once, Lucy thought, he didn’t sound terribly convincing.

“ _Really_?” Grace asked incredulously, eyebrow raised. “You expect me to believe that the two of you are not courting, or at least having… _relations_ …”

Lucy was sure she heard both Wyatt and Rufus groan, but she had immediately turned towards Flynn again. Were they _that_ obvious? It had, after all, only been one night, and she had spent most of the mission trying not to over-analyse the situation and attempting to ignore Flynn and her feelings… _oh_ … oh she was in _big_ trouble.

“Miss McBeal, a word?” Grace took a sudden step forward and motioned for Lucy to follow her. Lucy did so, confused, taking a moment to look behind her at the other members of her team. Wyatt and Rufus seemed to be trying to ignore the whole situation, while Flynn, rather unhelpfully, merely shrugged.

“May I suggest,” Grace started, as soon as they were out of earshot of the men, her gaze flitting between Lucy and Flynn, “that you do not delay in revealing the true extent of your feelings for that gentleman. He clearly adores you.”

“I don’t think… it’s not like that. We had,” Lucy sighed and closed her eyes, “we spent one night together but it was purely a comfort thing and Flynn is a frie…”

“I think we both know that isn’t true. One night or not, you both clearly have feelings for the other.”

Lucy found herself speechless, unsure of what to say; how could she explain _any_ of the multitude of feelings she had for Flynn?

Grace appeared to take Lucy’s silence as a confirmation of some kind, and gestured towards the men before heading back towards them without another word. Her job, it seemed, was done.

Lucy followed, moving to stand next to Flynn. It was a natural thing to do really. Flynn, however, seemed to be trying his hardest to ignore her. It didn’t seem to be working though, as she could see him glancing at her every few seconds.

There was another spell of awkward silence, broken, eventually, by Grace.

“I hope the two of you are able to embrace the feelings that you both clearly feel,” she said, looking at Lucy directly, then at the man by her side. “If I’ve learned anything from the events of this afternoon, it’s that you shouldn’t waste an opportunity when it’s presented to you. Now, I must return to the station, so I will bid you all farewell; it has been… _interesting_.”

With that, Grace smiled one last time and disappeared off into the crowd.

The remaining group stood silently for a few seconds, before Rufus turned and started to walk off in the direction of the Lifeboat, Wyatt quickly following close behind.

“That’s ridiculous. She can’t be _that_ good of a detective,” Rufus said jokingly, as he and Wyatt wandered off further down the streets. “As if Lucy and _Flynn_ could ever have feelings for each other.”

Lucy didn’t hear Wyatt’s mumbled reply. Instead, she turned towards Flynn, her focus was solely on the man now standing in front of her, arms by his sides and fingers flexing, as if he wanted to grab onto something, or _someone_.

“Yeah. Feelings. That’s clearly ridiculous.” Lucy said belatedly, her gaze not shifting from Flynn at all.

“Yes. Completely.”

They stood opposite each other, neither of them willing to break the moment. Eventually, Flynn sighed and took a tiny step forward.

“Lucy,” he muttered, “about…about last night. I think we need to have a talk about it. About us. Don’t you think?”

Lucy looked at him, _really_ looked at him. Felt her heart lurch at the thought that if she didn’t take Grace’s advice, if she didn’t take the opportunity, if she didn’t let Garcia Flynn into life right now, she might lose him altogether.

“I think… I think we probably should. I’m…I’m looking forward to it.”

Flynn broke out into a smile.

“Me too,” he whispered, then, moving suddenly he gestured dramatically down the street with his arm, where Wyatt and Rufus were just about visible in the distance. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Lucy replied before taking her place at his side and walking beside him towards the way home, towards their friends, towards their future.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the prompt for this fill was the following: A fic of what you think Grace’s reaction to Garcy would be. Like maybe Garcia Wyatt and Lucy are all together and she looks at Garcy and is like “so you two definitely slept together and he (wyatt) is jealous.” and they have to explain their very awkward situation.
> 
> Let me know what you think - comments and kudos make my day!
> 
> (Have a prompt? Feel free to send it to me on tumblr - I'm under the same username over there!)


	2. No ones rhythm but our own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, another prompt. I'd love to see a scene like this in the show! Set some time after 2x05 but it's pretty ambiguous apart from that.

It becomes something a routine after that first time, after that initial ice had been broken, after they decided that actually, being in each other’s company wasn’t a hardship, wasn’t a chore, but was something to look forward to. It’s another cautious connection between them, but one that grows stronger with each occurrence.

This time it’s Lucy’s turn to pick the film. It’s late, everyone else has gone to bed, or home, none of the other occupants willing to encroach on Lucy and Flynn’s ‘alone’ time - none of them have been able to define the budding relationship, but everyone knows the two of them enough to give them the space and the time they need to find their way on their own.

Flynn slumps down next to Lucy on the old sofa (it’s still uncomfortable as hell, but they’re still making do…) and hands her a cold beer, while she grabs the remote from the table and flicks on the TV. They don’t speak a word, there’s no real need.

Lucy flicks through all the channels twice before settling, inevitably, on the the black and white oldies, their go-to when nothing else takes their fancy. (There’s so much chaos and panic and fighting in their life that all modern films suddenly hit too close to home, no matter how outlandish the subject matter.)

Flynn loves Bogart, while Lucy is more of a Bacall fan, but tonight it is Fred and Ginger and soft music and romance. Lucy raises an eyebrow in question at the man sitting next to her, double checking if her choice is okay (she knows him well, she knows he’ll agree to anything she chooses…) Flynn doesn’t answer directly but smiles, nods and gestures for her to turn the volume up so he can hear the opening swell of the overture.

They stay pretty quiet throughout, laughing at all the right points, Lucy gasping at all the choreography and Flynn bopping his head slightly to the music at times. It’s  _comfortable_ and  _fun_ and this is the time Lucy relishes, when Rittenhouse doesn’t exist and her thoughts are filled with friends and good company and the potential of something  _more_ with the man sitting next to her.

She leans her head on his shoulder about half way through the film. Flynn doesn’t comment, just shifts slightly and moves his arm to rest on the back of the sofa instead, before, after a few minutes, letting it slide around Lucy, like a teen on a tentative first date. Lucy smiles and shifts a fraction closer.

Time passes, and they watch in silence as the plot moves forward, the music plays and the dancers drift across the screen in beautiful ball gowns and perfectly tailored tuxedos.

 “My mother tried to send me to ballet lessons once,” Lucy suddenly confides as Astaire and Rogers waltz across the screen, the choreography making them look like characters from a Disney film.

They’ve been quiet for so long that Flynn glances down at her.“What happened?”

“I was four; I spent the whole time running around ignoring the teacher and doing what I wanted. My mother was…  _encouraged_ … not to bring me back .”

She looks embarrassed at her confession, and sure enough, Flynn takes the opportunity to poke fun at her lightheartedly.

“Ah, the great Lucy Preston, undone by ballet shoes and plies. I guess there is something you aren’t good at!”

“I was  _FOUR_!” she reminds him, shoving him gently on the the arm while she laughs at the absurdity of it all. He winces in jest and rubs at his arm before grinning at her. 

“And yet I suppose you never attempted to learn when you were older?”

Lucy suddenly stares at her rapidly emptying beer bottle, flicks some condensation from the glass and mumbles something incoherently. Flynn chuckles. 

“What was that?”

Lucy sighs and turns to face him and smiles slightly. He returns the gesture, the look lighting up his face. She thinks, just for a second, that she likes him more when he’s happy. 

“Actually I did. I took some salsa lessons in college…” She trails off.

“And?” Flynn encourages, a raised eyebrow as accompaniment.

“And I was too clumsy and I kept standing on everyone's feet, so I quit.”  
He laughs then, long and hard, but not cruelly, never that. Flynn’s known her long enough to be witness to her true nature, she really is the clumsiest person he’s ever met.

Lucy takes another long pull of her drink. Flynn says nothing, just returns his gaze to the TV, where the lovers are dancing their final romantic number of the movie. He taps his feet to the music and just waits patiently, happy with the silence but ready to listen if Lucy decides to carry on the conversation.

“I just wish…” Lucy starts before trailing off once more.

Silence falls momentarily between them.

“Lucy,” Flynn whispers, catching her attention with her name while he squeezes her shoulder in silent support. Lucy figures he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “It’s just me. You can trust me remember; no judgment.”

His words, his manner, his, well,  _everything_ , seems to put her at ease. Lucy takes a breath and finishes her previous thought.

“I just wish it were  _that_  easy,” she comments, gesturing towards the couple moving in sync together on the screen. “I wish I wasn’t so damn clumsy. I think I just have two left feet,” she finishes despondently. She’s pretty sure she’s pouting.

Flynn looks at her carefully, seems to be contemplating something important as the music starts to fade, the film ending and switching immediately to a late night infomercial. He casually reaches over and clicks off the screen using the nearby remote, cutting off the way too enthusiastic host advertising knives and leaving them in the near silence of the bunker.

“Maybe,” he starts, voice husky and low in the quiet, “maybe you just didn’t have the right teacher.”

That’s all he really says before he stands slowly, placing his bottle on the table in front of the sofa. Lucy can only watch as he reaches out and carefully plucks her own bottle from between her fingers and sets it down beside his own.

The next thing she sees is his hand held out in invitation. Lucy rolls her eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ah come on Lucy, you know you want to.”

He raises his eyebrows suggestively, wiggles his fingers to tempt her to take his hand.

“ _Completely_ ridiculous.”

Flynn just wiggles his fingers again, while his other hand taps against this thigh. Lucy gazes up at him, sees the determination and mischievous sparkle in his eyes, watches him lick his bottom lip before dragging his teeth over it, leaving his lip slightly red and wet and oh so distracting - it’s a sign of his nerves Lucy knows, and the thought that Garcia Flynn could be nervous about her reaction causes her to shake her head a little; he’s such a fool ( _but he’s yours_ , she thinks, knows, understands…)

She reaches out then, just a little, just enough to grasp his hand with her fingers. He beams at her, laughs, and bows, bows, as if it’s an invitation to a formal dance in the early 19th century. Lucy wonders if he got all his dancing inspiration from Pride & Prejudice ( _he was a dead ringer for Darcy after all,_ she thinks _; tall, dark, broody, stubborn and completely unable to say the right thing on more than one occasion…_ )

He tugs at her hand, and although she grumbles at his insistence, she eventually relents and allows herself to be pulled to her feet. He leads her away from the sofa to where they have a little more space. Flynn immediately curls his fingers around her own, tucking his other hand gently around her waist. He was so damn tall that Lucy thinks they probably look ridiculous, but at that moment, when she can feel the heat of his hand through her shirt, she can’t bring herself to care. She puts her hand round his back, grasps his turtleneck as if worried that this is all a dream and he’ll fade from view if she doesn’t hold on. 

Flynn doesn’t comment, just stands a little taller.

“Ready?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” is all Lucy can think to say, so Flynn just nods.

Despite his height he moves gracefully, twirling her around and away from him suddenly, clutching her waist as she returns to his side. Lucy laughs, swatting him on the shoulder when she has an opportunity. 

“Flynn, we don't even have any music,” she exclaims, laughing as he spins her again.

“Oh now really Lucy, you think I haven't thought of that?”

Flynn starts humming then, a soft tune, something familiar but not; possibly an old rat pack tune or a crooner melody.

He takes small steps to start, taking the lead, encouraging her to follow him, to move with him. She’s tense, too concerned about her feet, his feet, to fully enjoy the moment.

“Lucy,” he utters, taking a tiny step away so he can look at her properly. “Don’t think, don’t analyze, just  _trust_ yourself,  _enjoy_ yourself…”

She nods, settles herself more comfortably in his arms and allows herself to just  _feel_ the movement, allows herself to trust Flynn as he starts to direct them around the space of the room. 

He pulls her closer after a while, when she’s got the hang if it, when she’s laughing and twirling and clearly, actually, enjoying herself. It’s just a fraction, just a tiny movement on Flynn’s part, but it’s enough for his intention to be clear. His fingers squeeze hers, and Lucy takes the plunge, takes that final step and closes the distance, leaning her head on his chest and allowing herself to pull him closer. She can smell the faint traces of his cologne and the scent of  _him_. Lucy leans into him, savoring his touch and the feeling of  _belonging_ and  _right_. 

“I like this,” she whispers against his chest, listening to both his heart and the tune he hums.

She feels his smile rather than sees it. Hears the rumble of his approval in his chest as he mutters in agreement.

“Me too,” he replies, voice hushed and almost breathless, before he plants a lingering kiss on the top of her head.

They continue swaying in the quiet of the room, Flynn's soft voice their only accompaniment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the prompt for this fill was the following: Garcia and Lucy playfully dancing with one another, in the past or in the bunker, whichever comes more naturally :)
> 
> Let me know what you think - comments and kudos make my day!
> 
> (Have a prompt? Feel free to send it to me on tumblr - I'm under the same username over there!)


	3. The spark that starts it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another anon prompt from tumblr. I really really loved writing this one.  
> By the way, some of you may have read this before; I posted it on tumblr and forgot to put it up here! Hope you all enjoy despite that!  
> Rated T for some slightly colourful language from Flynn!

Wyatt is pacing.

Despite the fact that he has managed to acquire some guards clothing, there’s no reason for him to be on the upper corridor of this particular mansion at this particular moment in time; someone will catch him, interrogate him, demand to know why he’s there. It could bring their whole mission to a dismal end.  _Something must be wrong._

Lucy can see him through the window opposite, despite the fact her concentration is supposed to be on the men in front of her. They’re negotiating apparently. At least, Lucy reflects, that’s what they’re  _supposed_ to be doing. At the moment, however, they seem to be playing a very dangerous game of cat and mouse in the presence of both a mobster and a corrupt local governor. One, or both, of them are in league with Rittenhouse, but trying to determine  _which_ of them it is is turning into an incredibly frustrating affair.

Lucy glances to her left, spots Flynn’s fingers flex in frustration. It’s a small tell, but it’s enough to let her know that his patience is wearing thin. She needs an excuse now. Needs to get out to see Wyatt, needs to find out what’s wrong, needs to tell him to  _calm_.  _down_.

“Flynn,” she utters, her voice loud enough to draw the focus of everyone  _but_ the man in question. Lucy instinctively places her hand on his thigh - a somewhat risque move, but a necessity when she realizes he’s not paying attention; instead he’s choosing to glare at the other male occupants of the room. His eyes immediately snap to hers at the touch of her hand. “Honey?” she tries again.

“Yes dear?” Flynn replies finally, and Lucy wonders if she imagines the slight break in his voice.

“I don’t suppose you’d mind escorting me to the powder room?”

Flynn finally turns to look at her, gaze wandering to her hand, then back to her face. Lucy tries not to be too obvious in her glance at Wyatt through the window, and Flynn’s eyes shift to the man wandering the halls outside. Thankfully Flynn’s well trained enough to know exactly what she needs.  _We have to leave. We have to leave *now*._  Flynn nods in acknowledgment.

It’s fortunate they’re in a time when women were viewed as being incapable of actually doing anything independently. She stands while Flynn asks for permission for the two of them to be temporarily excused. It’s granted, but Lucy can tell the powerful men sitting opposite are suspicious. She tries to ignore it. Flynn holds out his arm and Lucy moves closer, tucking her hand into his elbow. She can feel the warmth of his skin through his jacket and she sucks in a swift breath when he places his free hand over hers.

They leave through the parlor door silently, Lucy struggling to maintain her composure as she fights the instinct to  _run_. Flynn is a steady presence at her side though, and Lucy feels him squeeze her hand slightly in support.

“Easy Lucy,” he whispered quietly, “keep calm; I’m sure everything is  _fine_.”

She sighs, nods and steps quickly as Flynn directs them towards Wyatt, who is still pacing. Flynn leads them down the corridor, and Wyatt follows silently behind. He’s played this role enough to know that they don’t start talking within earshot, or view, of anyone else.

“What’s the matter?” Lucy asks as soon as the three of them are away from the window and far enough down the corridor that their conversation couldn’t possibly be heard.

“It’s Rufus,” Wyatt starts, a concerned frown on his face; a look that only gets deeper when he glances at Lucy and Flynn properly.

Lucy realizes that Flynn still has a hold of her hand, that her palm is still resting in the crook of his elbow. Despite this, she doesn’t make a move to pull her hand away. Wyatt frowns again and continues.

“They found him trying to break into Masterson’s office. I think he’s down in the cellar with the other guards, but it won’t be long until they realize we’re all in on the plan; I mean, we’re sus…”

Wyatt suddenly freezes. Lucy follows suit. There is an echo of footsteps on the wooden floor further down the corridor - a guard. Flynn glances in the direction of the noise. He finally releases Lucy’s hand, and she finds, even in this panicked moment, that she misses the touch.

There’s nowhere for the three of them to go, and Lucy’s 99% sure they’re going to get caught. Someone by now must have figured out they’re frauds, that they’ve no intention of selling guns to the highest bidder, nor of making contact with the mobster or governor’s Rittenhouse source for any other reason than to eliminate them.

The guard is getting closer, and Lucy watches as Wyatt quickly ducks into a nearby room without another word. Lucy doesn’t blame him for the quick escape - he’s more at risk than she and Flynn are; she’s sure the guards are all familiar with each other given the nature of their employers shady business dealings.

“Flynn, what do we do?” She’s not going to panic, really she’s not, but the guard is coming closer and closer and…

Lucy hears Flynn mutter “shit” under his breath but doesn’t have any time to react before her back hits the wall behind her and Flynn’s lips are on hers.

It’s messy to say the least, but rather than break away, push him away,  _walk_ away like she knows she should Lucy adjusts, tilts her head, pushes closer and closer to him. Opens her mouth to him, deepens the kiss in an instant because it feels  _good_ , it feels  _right_. Her hands drift to Flynn’s waist before resting behind his back, while his land on her hips, pushing her back into the wall. She suddenly realizes how  _tall_ he actually is; it’s really quite ridiculous. Her heart pounds in her ear, just as Flynn’s hands tighten on her waist, whether in passion or fear she’ll never know, but she hears the guard pass them with an audible ‘tut’ but nothing else.

Flynn continues to kiss her. Lucy continues to return the embrace - she really doesn’t want this moment to end, and who knows where the guard is and, and…

Lucy suddenly hears faint footsteps, a huff, a grumble, a curse. Her mind is caught up in the moment, caught up in the touch and the  _feel_ of kissing Garcia Flynn.

“Uh, guys, I’m pretty sure the guard’s gone…”

Lucy breaks away from Flynn instantly, but she doesn’t miss the way he seems to lean in a fraction as she pulls back, as if reluctant to break contact at all. She’s still pressed against the wall, and it takes Flynn a moment to step back and increase the distance between them. She instantly misses the feel of being  _surrounded_ by him. Lucy’s attention switches to the speaker to her right and she stares guiltily at Wyatt whose eyes are practically boggling at the scene.

Flynn moves further away, as if finally realizing that the threat has passed. He’s watching Lucy carefully, probably wondering if she’s going to hit him, chastise him for taking liberties.  _She can’t do, it felt good, felt right_. Lucy realizes in that instant that she’s in  _trouble_.

“I’m not sure there was any need…”

Lucy cuts Wyatt before he has a chance to rant, still overwhelmed by the tumult of emotions rushing through her. She glances up at Flynn, who looks frozen, a look on his face that is somehow full of both adoration and panic. She doesn’t know what to say, what to do. Flynn offers her no reaction. Lucy sighs before turning back to the other man.

“We were undercover Wyatt, don’t… don’t over analyse it. C’mon, we need to find Rufus and get out of here.”

She misses the flash of disappointment that crosses Flynn’s face as she retreats down the corridor towards the stairs.

 

* * *

 

The mission ends, as most of them seem to nowadays, with a firefight and a desperate run for their lives back to the Lifeboat. Flynn doesn’t say a word to her. Lucy tries not to worry about  _why_.

* * *

 

It’s not until hours later, when they’re safely back in the present, with a warm cooked meal happily devoured and a cold beer on the go that Flynn  _finally_ speaks to her.

“Lucy,” he starts, and she suddenly realizes that he seems hesitant, wary. Flynn opens his mouth to say something then closes it again before taking a long, desperate pull of his beer. Lucy watches him swallow. She thinks,  _thinks_ , that Garcia Flynn is  _nervous_. He’s almost slouched on the couch, and she wonders if he feels as uncomfortable as he looks.

Eventually, after an eternity, Flynn speaks again.

“Lucy, about earlier…”

“Earlier?”

She plays ignorant, if only to hide the fact that their kiss been on her mind since the moment it ended.

“In the corridor. When we…”

“Kissed?” she finishes for him, almost breathing the word instead of speaking it.

“Yeah.”

They go silent. A second goes by. Another. Somewhere in the kitchen the tap drips. They ignore it.

“I, uh, I wanted to apolo…”

“You don’t have to do that,” Lucy interrupts, before suddenly realizing how eager she sounds. “I mean, it was part of the cover right?”

Flynn frowns in what Lucy  _thinks_  is confusion.

“I suppose. It’s just that I thought there was… that you… that…”

Flynn sighs and runs a hand through his hair, before leaning over and placing his beer on the table in front of them. Lucy, sensing that something is brewing, something big and scary and  _exciting_ all at once, does the same. She takes a deep breath, then reaches over. Grabs his hand, interlocks their fingers. His eyes, dark and hooded, lock onto their joined hands before his gaze shifts to her own.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to presume… I just thought…”

“Thought what Lucy?” Flynn asks, voice husky. He moves closer, dips his head.  _It would be easy_ , Lucy thinks,  _to kiss him now._

“Thought it was just part of the job,” she admits, suddenly panicked that she’s got the wrong idea.

“It was.”

Lucy hearts drops in her chest. It  _hurts_.

“But,” Flynn suddenly continues, squeezing her fingers gently, “I wouldn’t… I felt…  _fuck_.”

She can’t help it. She laughs. Moves closer. Breathes. Releases his hands only to place her own gently on his chest. She thinks she can feel his heart hammering under the tips of her fingers.

“You’re really out of practice at this aren’t you?”

He freezes.

Lucy wonders for a second if she’s pushed too far, brought up a distant memory of his wife, the one he lost, the one who will never return. She’s thinking and thinking and thinking and then… she’s  _not_.

_Flynn is kissing her._

His lips lightly brush hers, just a whisper, just enough pressure to let his intentions be known, but light enough to give her the freedom, the choice, to back away. It’s different from that first time only hours ago. This kiss isn’t the result of adrenaline and panic. This kiss is slow and quiet and over before it really begins.

Flynn pulls back and Lucy looks up at him, eyes fluttering open. She hadn’t even realized they’d been closed.

He looks shell-shocked, despite the fact that he initiated the kiss in the first place.  _He must be running on instinct,_ Lucy thinks.  _Well, two can play that game…_

She leans forward, just a fraction, just enough to let Flynn know what she intends to do. His hand reaches for her then, palm resting lightly on her cheek. It feels warm again her skin, a comforting touch in the cool air of the bunker. The moment stretches out for an age before Lucy closes the distance between them, pressing her lips against Flynn’s.

They deepen the embrace almost immediately, and Lucy moans softly as Flynn’s hand shifts from her cheek to the nape of her neck, his fingers entangling gently with her hair. She shifts closer, one hand coming to rest on his arm while the other clutches the back of the sofa for support.

The kiss goes on for an eternity, both of them finally,  _finally_  giving in to the pull that has been tugging and tugging and tugging at them since their first meeting at the Hindenburg. Lucy feels a sense of relief, that this is where she belonged all along, that she should have known from the start that there would be no one else but him in the end.

The two of them eventually separate, albeit slowly, both unwilling to break the contact. Lucy leans into the touch as Flynn sweeps his hand from her neck, down her arm, his fingertips ghosting against her skin. Goosebumps break out at the touch and he smiles cheekily; she’ll never live it down, this reaction, this visible sign of how much this man can affect her. Flynn’s fingers eventually reach the back of her hand, and Lucy finally takes the initiative and clutches his fingers with her own.

There is silence between them once more.

“So,” she starts.

“So,” he replies.

Lucy feels awkward, figures Flynn feels the same. She tries again, takes a breath, jumps in at the deep end.

“Is this,” she starts, gesturing between them with her free hand, “is this…okay?”

Flynn smiles at her, that almost smug look that’s become oh so familiar to Lucy in the course of their friendship.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward again slowly, a playful gleam in his eye. “Yeah, it’s definitely okay.”

He leans forward to kiss her again, and Lucy closes the gap without hesitation.

She has a feeling they’re going to make a great team after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's prompt: A fic where lucy and Flynn have their first kiss while undercover in the past and Wyatt has to witness it. Then Lucy and Flynn realize there might be something between them and it builds from there.
> 
> Let me know what you think - comments and kudos make my day!
> 
> (Have a prompt? Feel free to send it to me on tumblr - I'm under the same username over there!)


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